Home Is Where Your Heart Is
by Magica Draconia
Summary: When the first house isn't a home, then try, try, try . . . and try again.


**Written for the Secret Snarry Swap at the snape_potter community on livejournal, under the name magika_draconia. Prompt was Severus and Harry are making the big move, they are moving in together, but they discover they have totally opposite decorating styles. How do they settle their differences?**

 **The rating on livejournal is a soft R, so I wasn't quite certain what that corresponded to on here, so went with T just to be on the safe side.**

* * *

Thump _. Crash!_ The sound of something fragile breaking.

"Damn it, Severus; would you _stop_ closing the living room curtains!"

"Are you a wizard who knows how to use a _lumos_ or aren't you?" the deep, silky baritone returns.

"I am not a wizard who expects to have to cast a damn _spell_ to see by, in my _own house_ , in the _middle of the SODDING DAYTIME_!" Harry yells back, nursing the painful spot on his shin where he banged into the coffee table. With a shake of his head, he hobbles towards the window, hands outstretched like a blind man, to draw back the blackout curtains that Severus insisted on.

"Don't!" The curtains whip themselves out of Harry's hands and slide shut again, just as the spark of yellow light appears in the doorway. "My experiments are light sensitive."

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose, praying for just one more bit of strength. "Then why are they in _here_?" he asks.

"Because you refused the house that had a cellar," Severus answers, logically; and Harry unfortunately can't argue that – he hadn't liked the house with the cellar at all.

"A shed, then," he suggests.

Severus casually folds his arms so that his _lumos_ only highlights one side of his face, making him look very demonic, and raises an eyebrow. "You mean the house with the shed that I raved over for three hours, and you took one look and said, 'Not for all the Galleons in the world'?"

"I – I didn't, I didn't say that . . . did I?" Harry bites his lip, because he knows full well he _did_ say that. It seems a bit ridiculous now. He cannot for the life of him remember just what was so abhorrent about that house to him, and it _was_ the only one that Severus really liked. "Well," he begins, "maybe we can—"

"Harry!" Severus sighs in exasperation. "Did you, or did you not, hear the estate agent when we signed the papers for this house? She said, and I quote, 'If you decide that you don't like _this_ house, then you can just go ahead and find another agent, because I _am done_ with you pair now.'"

Harry winces, guiltily. They really have been the worst customers to deal with. But this is their first _proper_ home together – Severus' dungeons at Hogwarts don't really count, no matter what Severus says – and Harry just wants it to be perfect, to prove that the naysayers who were so against them living together are wrong.

Technically, they _have_ been living together for years, but Harry was never officially invited to move in. He just brought a few clothes down to Severus' chambers one day, and then a few more a week later, and then little things here, and slightly bigger things there . . . until, somehow, the only thing of Harry's that _isn't_ residing in Severus' quarters is an old Quidditch jumper that he only keeps around for mucky jobs, such as helping Hagrid with his animals.

When Severus realised, however, that the next year would bring the Granger-Weasley triplets to Hogwarts . . . well, he called it retiring, Harry called it quitting, and Minerva called it leaving her in the lurch.

The decision obviously meant they needed to find a new home, and it had seemed easier to just buy a new house together, rather than try cramming over thirty years' worth of things into Harry's poky little flat, or trying to make Grimmauld Place habitable – which wasn't going to happen short of completely demolishing it and rebuilding from the ground up.

Somehow, though, Harry has developed this image of the perfect home for them, but nothing they've seen ever matches up. Several of the houses had been okay enough at first but, as evidenced by the fact that this is their seventh house in six months, they never _stay_ okay.

"And besides," Severus carries on now, "you cannot complain about my experiments when you have that portrait of Albus."

"I like having a portrait of him," Harry says, defensively.

"In the _bedroom_?!" exclaims Severus, aghast.

"Er—" Harry flushes. Has he really put Albus' portrait in their bedroom? He'd thought they'd agreed that room was to be their study. "No, you're right. I'll move it," he says, sheepishly.

"Good. I may have cared for the old coot, but not _that_ much," Severus says, and turns to leave the living room again. Harry scurries after him; he doesn't want to risk tripping over anything again, yet he can't be bothered to draw his wand for a _lumos_ that will only last seconds.

Once in the hallway, Harry pauses as Severus carries on and enters the bathroom. There is a strange sound, and then Harry can hear Severus tapping on something in the pattern of his non-verbal _alohomora_. Abruptly, he remembers that the only locked thing in the bathroom is the airing cupboard, and that was where—

"Oh, no!" he exclaims. "Severus, don't! Oh, nonono!"

Unfortunately, he is too late. Severus' startled yelp is drowned out by the clattering of brooms falling to the floor. Harry cringes.

"For the love of Merlin, Harry, _WHY_ do you have brooms stored in the _bathroom_?!" Severus demands, crossly. Harry hears the sound of more brooms rolling across the floor as Severus struggles upright.

"I couldn't find the display case for them," Harry admits, guiltily. When they'd packed up all their things, Severus had neatly labelled every box and bag. Harry had just thrown things together, and had then breezily dismissed Severus' concern, stating that his was an _organised_ chaos, and he'd be able to lay his hands on anything as soon as he wanted it.

Typically, of course, Severus was right, and now Harry has no idea what is in half of his boxes.

"Of course you couldn't," Severus sighs, appearing in the doorway with two brooms in each hand. He hands one set to Harry. "You could have just shrunk them down—"

"Some of the brooms don't take well to that," Harry tells him, clutching the two brooms to his chest.

"Then I suppose you'd better find that display case, hadn't you," says Severus, handing the other brooms to Harry as well.

The bathroom door is then firmly closed in his face.

* * *

"Tea, tea, where did he put the tea?" Harry mutters to himself the next morning. Severus didn't exactly kick him out of bed last night – after he'd moved Albus' portrait, of course – but Harry woke this morning to find Severus all but clinging to his side of the bed, rather than wrapped around Harry as he usually is. Harry is hoping that a good cup of tea will get him back in Severus' good books.

Of course, first he has to _find_ the tea.

So far he's found pixie dust, a jar of earth, lacewing flies, a bag of brown sugar and bat wings. He does _not_ want to know what Severus is keeping _those_ in the kitchen for.

"Scorch it, how hard is it to find tea in this place?!" he hisses in frustration, banging shut another cupboard door.

"There'd have to _be_ tea first," says Severus' voice from behind him, and Harry jumps, having completely missed the sounds of the older man coming downstairs. Then Severus' words fully register in his brain, and Harry frowns in confusion.

"You mean we don't have tea?" he asks, stupidly. "But you only have a cup—" or three "—every morning. Surely you can't have finished off the last box already."

It is then that Hell surely freezes over. Severus actually . . . _blushes_. Harry gapes at him.

Scowling, Severus folds his arms across his chest and lowers his gaze to the floor. "We don't have boxes of tea," he mutters.

"Then what _do_ we have?" Harry asks. There is a quick murmur from Severus' direction that Harry cannot hear. "I'm sorry, what?" he says.

Severus heaves a sigh, and turns his gaze up towards the ceiling. "I said, the house-elves bring the tea."

"The . . . house-elves . . . bring the tea," Harry repeats, slowly. No, it makes no more sense to him hearing it a second time. "You mean they go shopping for you?" Severus' head shakes once, and Harry's mouth drops open again as realisation strikes him. "You have the _Hogwarts house-elves bringing you tea every morning_?!" he screeches. The other wizard's small huff of air through his nose is all the answer Harry needs. "Severus!" he scolds. "That's terrible – and lazy! Does Minerva know you're hijacking her elves?"

"I have no idea," Severus says, airily. "She knew the elves would bring me tea at Hogwarts. If she doesn't think to ask if they've stopped now that I'm . . . elsewhere, then that's her problem."

In an instant of perfect timing, at that very moment, a cup of tea appears on the counter close to where Severus is standing, steam curling up in wisps from it. After a pause, another cup appears beside Harry's elbow. Harry stares at it, dubiously.

"You may as well drink it," Severus says. He has his cup cradled in his hands, and is inhaling the steam. "The elves will just try _all_ the different kinds of tea until they find one you'll accept." Harry raises his eyebrows, and Severus nods. He knows this from first-hand experience.

Sighing in resignation, Harry picks up the cup. He makes a note to himself to go and visit Minerva later, just to reassure himself that she doesn't mind that the house-elves are apparently making house calls.

"So, do you have plans for today?" he asks Severus.

The other wizard eyes him over his tea cup. "Only to keep an eye on my experimental brewing," he replies. "You have something in mind?"

"I thought we could decorate that other room together," Harry suggests, aiming for nonchalance but not quite certain he pulls it off. They had not gotten around to decorating any rooms in any of the other houses; mainly because as soon as they were in, Harry wanted to be out again.

Well aware of this, Severus raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. Instead, he finishes his tea, places the cup on the counter – where it only remains for a moment before disappearing, presumably back to Hogwarts – and then waves a hand for Harry to precede him.

Setting his own untouched cup down, Harry leads the way to the second downstairs room. They haven't quite decided yet if this room will be a second living room, or whether they'll turn it into a library. With the large fireplace taking up two-thirds of one wall, either use will do.

Studying the room, hands on his hips, Harry considers his choices. Severus stands beside him, arms folded.

"How about—" Harry starts, and brandishes his wand. "—this?" He mutters a quick spell under his breath, and colour flows across the walls around them. The chimney wall turns a deep burnished gold, and the other three walls go a just-this-side-of-garishly-bright red.

Severus makes a noise of disgust. "I absolutely _refuse_ to live in the Gryffindor common room," he says, tilting his head back to look down his nose at Harry.

"It doesn't look like the Gryffindor common room!" Harry says, indignantly. He glances quickly at the nearest red wall, and winces. "Much," he amends. "It's cosy!"

"It is sickening," the other wizard sneers, and waves his own wand. New colour washes over the walls. Silver replaces the gold, and the red becomes a green so dark it looks almost black.

Harry stares around the room and is reminded of the time he and Ron snuck into the Slytherin common room to trick a confession about being the Heir of Slytherin out of Draco Malfoy. "Yes, because this is so much better," he deadpans.

Severus sniffs, haughtily. "It's much more dignified than red and gold," he says.

Shaking his head, Harry lifts his wand again. "Let's have another colour scheme altogether, shall we?" he suggests. This time, the bottom of the walls turn orange, with the top half turning a warm peach colour and a strip of metallic-looking yellow running at waist-height to separate them.

"Merlin, no. It looks like the inside of a pumpkin." Severus shudders. Before Harry can say anything, the walls are changing again, this time to alternating stripes of pale blue and lavender.

Harry shivers. "Severus, those colours are too cold. We'd freeze!"

"Don't be daft, Harry," Severus disagrees, shaking his head. "The colour on the walls has no bearing on the actual temperature of a room."

"We're still not having those particular shades," Harry tells him, firmly. He raises his wand to cast his spell at the same time that Severus does.

This time, the walls flash rapidly through several colours, and then suddenly there is a blinding flash of light and an echoing crash.

Harry blinks rapidly to clear his vision of the black spots as the light fades. He catches sight of Severus, and freezes. _Oh, Merlin . . ._ Giggles begin to bubble up from his stomach, and although Harry tries valiantly to suppress them, they emerge from him as snorts.

Severus blinks, too, and looks over at Harry. His mouth drops open in astonishment. "Harry, you . . ." he starts, then he looks around the room, and finally down at himself. Harry is outright laughing at this point, bent over holding his stomach and wheezing.

The entire room – and Harry and Severus, too – are covered in vivid multi-coloured polka dots. Severus' nose is entirely pink, his hair is dotted with yellow and purple, his robes are a festive Christmas combination of red and lurid green, and his skin is covered in blue, black and grey spots.

"I hope you know how to fix this, Potter!" Severus barks at him, but even Harry can tell there's no real bite to his tone.

"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry," Harry manages to splutter out between hiccupping breaths.

"Brat," Severus growls, and advances on Harry until he is backed up against the wall. He lowers his head towards Harry's, gaze firmly fixed on the mirth-filled green eyes. "You had better hope this washes off, otherwise you're going to be doing a lot of . . . scrubbing . . . on your knees."

"You wash my back and I wash yours?" Harry asks, his voice going breathless. His heart rate picks up, as Severus presses up against his body, proving that at least one part of Severus is very definitely not angry with him.

"Impudent brat," murmurs Severus, and then the gap between them is closed, and Severus is kissing him. Harry throws his arms around Severus' neck, letting the older man hold him up as his tongue eagerly explores Severus' mouth and his knees go weak.

Severus growls deep in his throat, and shifts infinitesimally closer, one knee bumping in between Harry's and pressing ever so slightly upwards. Harry shivers, and tears his mouth from Severus' to fling his head back, panting for air. The back of his head bangs against the wall, but he is already seeing stars from Severus' kiss, so it doesn't matter too much.

His attention is further drawn from it when Severus begins to lick and nibble his way across Harry's jaw and down his throat. Groaning, Harry feels a flash of heat run through him, and he raises his left leg, wrapping it around Severus' thigh and pulling. The friction that creates causes him to shiver just as the other wizard bites at his throat, and for an insane moment he wonders if Severus could end up tearing his throat out.

"Harry," Severus groans against his skin, and Harry abruptly doesn't care. There are worse ways of going, he supposes. He lowers his head to find Severus' mouth again, sucking deeply on the lower lip. Apparently Severus likes this, as his hips surge upwards against Harry. Harry whimpers.

Almost without his permission, his hands slide down Severus' chest to fumble with the fastening of his robes. He wants skin, and he wants it _now_. An almost inaudible murmur rumbles from Severus' chest, and suddenly his robes are gone, leaving him just in trousers. An instant later, the shirt that Harry was wearing disappears too. Harry pulls his lover closer, and moans at the feel of warm flesh.

Severus' hips suddenly thrust hard, and Harry cries out, his leg creeping up to wrap around Severus' waist, pressing against his arse. Sweat is beginning to drip down his back, and he shivers as a drop runs down the small of his back, tickling him. It feels like he is leaking everywhere.

"Yes, my brat," Severus whispers in a deep hiss. His hands are clutching at Harry's hips; so hard that he's sure to leave bruises. Harry's own fingers are digging into the damp skin of Severus' back. Severus has found his rhythm now, and Harry is unable to control his shivers. He does not realise that he is all but mewling, but Severus does.

Feeling as though he is being devoured by flames, Harry grinds himself down, just as Severus thrusts heavily against him, and just that quickly, he is overwhelmed. "Sev'us!" he chokes out, as his muscles all clench violently at once, and he is suddenly coming hard.

"Harry!" Severus bellows in response, his head going back as his hips give several short thrusts, and then his own release is on him, and he stills against Harry, both of them panting heavily and now a complete mess.

Sinking down to the floor, the pair of them lie there, heads resting on the other's shoulder. Eventually, Severus chuckles, and his nose presses just underneath Harry's ear. Harry grins, and turns his head to search out Severus' mouth once more.

Perhaps, this time, this house will be okay after all.


End file.
